


When the Righteous Man Falls...

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, Dean in Hell, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Pain, Teasing, Torture, alastair!sam, dub-con???, fake!sam, hurt!Dean, implied wincest, non-con, torture handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's lost track of how long it's been. There's no such thing as days in hell. It's all one long intricately twisted web and he's on the last thread of silk before it breaks. He can feel it stretching inside him and around him, getting ready to snap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Righteous Man Falls...

Dean's lost track of how long it's been. There's no such thing as days in hell. It's all one long intricately twisted web and he's on the last thread of silk before it breaks. He can feel it stretching inside him and around him, getting ready to snap.

He's shackled to vertical wooden beams, bound by his wrists and ankles. It reminds him of the things he and Sam used to read about in medieval textbooks, the things of torture and ruin. For (what felt like) the past two or three decades he had been living out what used to merely send a tickle up his spine in photographs of ancient paintings.

Alastair's been slicing, carving, cutting, ripping new places in him he didn't know existed, and he feels like he's been bleeding for eternities.

"You know, it doesn't have to be bad for you, Dean..." Alastair keeps offering, voice as venomous and icy as a snake's. "You can be through with all the _suffering_ and the _torture_ and the _pain._ All you have to do is say one little word and I can give you what you want. And Dean, I know _exactly_ what you want."

Dean's got gashes stretching up both arms, he feels the pain of it even though he knows it's not real, it's not _physical._ Sometimes he thinks that the pain of the soul is worse than the pain of the body. And it's true. He knows it's true. _That's my soul he's cutting into, my soul he's trying to break,_ he thinks. And it'll work. He's so close to snapping the web.

Alastair massages his cock with a firm hand and Dean didn't even know he was naked. There isn't a part of or inside of his body that Alastair hasn't devoured with extensive meticulosity. It's almost impossible for him to get it up for Alastair, despite the many forms he's taken, and he knows that pisses the demon off more than anything. He usually gives up because it isn't satisfactory if Dean isn't getting anything out of it.

Deep crimson leaks from Dean's arms onto the hot metal cuffs, and he gasps. "You don't know shit."

"Oh don't I?" Alastair teases. "Think I don't know the things you try _so hard_ not to think about? The things you would _never, ever_ speak about up there, where you're bound up so tight by your conscience and your morality? So many secrets, Dean, and I know all of them now." And then his form changes.

Sam. _Sammy's_ looking up at him. He's a sight for the sorest of eyes, of _souls._ Dean takes in a breath, his eyes growing wide, but something's off. Sam's got this twisted smirk on his face, eyes dark and wicked. Still, Dean feels a sob caught in his throat.

Then he speaks. And it's Sam's voice, but not Sam's words. Not the right speech patterns. _Not Sammy,_ he tells himself, but he's too far gone already and can't listen to himself. Can't stop staring because he hasn't seen his baby brother in _so so_ long.

"Think I don't know how bad you wanna fuck your little brother?" Sam says, cruel grin spreading across his features. And it's like he's been _saving_ this for when he knew Dean was close to breaking point.

"No," Dean denies, sickening feeling growing in his gut listening to Sammy talk that way.

"How bad you wanna ram your huge dick into Sammy and feel how tight he is?" And now Sam's so close Dean can _smell_ him and he smells so good and so familiar, he smells like home so Dean shuts his eyes and feels waves of heat crashing over him, liquid forming between his lashes.

"Sammy, no..." And this is quite possibly the sweetest form of torment Alastair's dealt him yet, he's teasing him, giving him a glimpse of what he could have if he agrees to torture souls for him. To be his pet.

He jerks against his binds and now he barely registers the pain of the slashes, it's like they don't exist anymore. Nothing exists except Sam's impish features grinning cruelly and sinfully at him.

Dean pleads with the demon wearing his brother's form, last hopeless attempt to keep his tortured soul in tact before he's certain he's going to break.

"You don't have to be afraid of yourself, here, Dean. There is no such thing as _right and wrong._ Oh my..." Sam takes Dean's heavy cock in his hand and strokes it slowly. He dips his thumb nail right in the slit and then swivels it around the head, getting it wet. Dean jerks and chokes on a sob. "Look how hard you are for Sammy. Look how ready you are to fuck baby brother..." Sam's eyebrows curl up in mock pity, and then he tsks and shakes his head. "If I knew this was what it would take to get you this desperate, I would have tried this a lot sooner..."

Dean's face is twitching with what it's taking to hold everything back. He tries to plead again but he's not sure what he's begging for.

" _Dean..._ " Sammy says and it's all wrong, it's heavy with lust and feigned sympathy. Sam's lips brush his as he speaks. Dean feels his warm breath and tugs on the cuffs again.

"Don't you see, Dean? Judgement is of no value here. You don't have to hold anything back. Just give in to what you want. Everything you want, everything you've ever wanted, is welcome here."

Sam licks in his mouth, tongue teasing and playing, and Dean moans and strains against the metal. Sam's thumb digs into the sensitive head of his cock again, pressing and pulling with his fist. It hurts because he's barely moving his hand, giving him no friction. He strangles his cock and Dean hates that he's so desperate he thrusts his hips forward and then nearly sobs when the tight fist doesn't let up.

Sam bites at his lips, taunting little nibbles that have Dean shamelessly opening his mouth for more. Sam shoves his tongue inside and Dean marvels at how it tastes so _right_ that he forgets where he even is for a moment.

His cock strains, leaking pre-come, but Sam's enjoying just leaving him right on the edge.

"You wanna fuck me, Dean? Wanna fuck little Sammy? I'll let you. I'll let you have anything you want. It can be so good for you... I'll let you come inside me, like you've always wanted. I know you've always wanted this, Dean... Always wanted _me_..."

Dean's not even denying it anymore and he knows that's the last straw, what was left of him, of what made him _human_ is slipping away. And Dean's ready. Ready to slip off the web and come and torture.

Sam's pink tongue swipes obscenely across his own parted lips, hooded eyes staring closely into Dean's. His fist loosens and then tightens again and Dean's orgasm is forced from his body, ropes of semen spurt from his abused cock and Sam still barely gives him anything. He chokes the head with his relentless fingers as Dean jerks around and cries out. It never seems to end. And it doesn't. It's only when he's finished that Sam gives him friction, only now it fucking hurts. He rubs hard over the head of Dean's drained cock, and Dean gasps and tries to get away from it but can't. He sobs, his skull thumping back against the wooden beam.

"Please, please stop..."

Sam doesn't listen. His wet hot fist works him good and rough and Dean's body's making involuntary jerks over and over. It shouldn't hurt as much as it does, but everything's worse in hell, everything, and he can't stop shouting out in agony at the over-stimulation.

"Please..."

Sam laughs at him but then slows down to a stop. Dean's eyes are wet, watching through a cloud of tears as Sam licks the come off his hand erotically slow.

"Delicious..." he says, and Dean watches him swallow it down.

Dean's head slumps forward, he's failed.

He's tired, he's gone.

"Please..." and now he looks up, blabbering nonsense and begging for something new. He strains against his binds a final time. Sammy's so close, right there, right there and so pretty, so clean and so pretty. "Please... let me hold him... please..." He's pretty sure if he still had a heart it'd be aching right now. Bleeding, even.

"I'll let you hold him," Sam says and backs away. "I'll let you do whatever you want to him. All you have to say is one word, Dean. Say it and I'll give you everything you want."

"Okay," Dean breaks, breaks only for Sam, and the tears finally fall down his cheeks. "Okay, yes, I'll do it."

The cuffs are magically gone and Dean scrambles to get up. Impossibly, he feels strong again, his muscles are tight and firm and his legs don't shake when he stands.

Sam's smiling at him, satisfied.

He's Dean's prize. Dean wants to kneel at his feet. His king.

Instead, he holds him close and gently sobs. There's no heart beat there, anywhere, but it doesn't bother Dean. He's ready for an eternity like this.

 _And the righteous man breaks,_ Sam lulls into his skin, stroking over his back with cool, long fingers. _I'm going to take very good care of you, pet._

**Author's Note:**

> I re-watched most of S4 last night so..  
> I think this is the darkest fic I've written so far, but it is hell after all.  
> hope you guys aren't too upset with me for torturing poor Dean this much..  
> I think I'm a little upset with me for it, so i won't blame you :p


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